Halloween I.F. – “Something Rich and Strange” – Day 2

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For a moment, Star thought about blowing them both off. After that therapy session, the number one thought in his brain—which he tended to think of as ‘his little walnut’ at the best of times—was just running. Fleeing. Escaping. To where or from what didn’t matter.

But even as the urge built in him, it drained away. Not all of it, but the idea of disappointing his current two most important people in several entire worlds definitely outweighed the desire to flee. 

Star huffed a breath. Dandelion could wait. They lived together, more or less. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t see each other later today, and he was in no state after therapy to focus on lyrics and composition. Even the thought made him squirrelly.

Still, even if he was in love with Dandelion and they were friends and roommates and all those other things, Dandelion was also his boss several times over and had say over Star’s entire life. Not that he’d abuse it, but it still was important to be polite.

With that in mind, he typed:

I cannot possibly work on lyrics right now. Bad therapy session. Well, it was a fine therapy session, I guess? It did therapy things that I mostly got out of, but now I must run. I must become the wind. I am desperate to get into my bright red 1985 Toyota (AE86) Corolla Sport GT-S and spin around corners as I flee my own self-consciousness. I feel the need. The need for speed. You know I’m no good at lyrics anyway. Say hi to the sex machines for me. Love you. Bye.

He had found that if he buried honesty in among absolute piles of bullshit, it was impossible to differentiate from the steaming mess around it.

Dandelion sent an answer nearly immediately: ??? You hate cars. Sure, I’ll tell Adrien and Caoimhe you said hi.

Star did hate cars. There was nothing worse than being surrounded by cold metal while allowing said metal box to transport you somewhere, not when you were a fairy horse. But that was Dandelion and the rest of their band, the Merry Gentry, sorted.

That just left Dom, then, and Star hesitated over this one. He wanted to see Dom, and he wanted to run. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to get on the racetrack, though. Maybe he did need to do something outside of his norm, spend time with the same people but not doing the things they liked best. He couldn’t think of anything, though. 

Whatever. He’d decide on the go. He resumed walking, crossing the street and eyeing the Humanburger chain longingly. Legally, it wasn’t human meat, so he ordered from there sometimes, but it sure tasted like the real thing.

Maybe he wouldn’t get that right now, not if he was planning to meet up with a human right after.

Ignoring his grumbling stomach, Star decided to phone Dom instead of texting back. It rang a few more times than usual, and Star was about to hang up, but Dom answered in the nick of time.

“Star? Hey, man.”

“Hello, Dominic, my good man,” Star said. He wondered briefly if he was laying on the charm a bit too thick thanks to his inexplicable nerves. “I received your digital message and wanted to let you know I’m totally aaaaaaaamenable.”

“Great!” Dom sounded a little quizzical, if still enthusiastic.

Star licked his lips. Yeah, it was too much. “But I’m not feeling like hitting the track today. Why don’t you come down and meet me, and we can get a coffee together, maybe do… something else… I haven’t decided what, I was thinking of rolling a dice and fleeing with you in a random direction. Maybe talk about stuff like.” He didn’t say ‘our relationship’ by the skin of his teeth. Not when he hadn’t asked Dom out. “Whatever. Go bowling. Or to karaoke. Orrr we could go back to my place and watch a movie.” Wait, time out. “I could introduce you to Dandelion.” He hadn’t meant to say that.

“Your sidhe lord? Is that okay?”

“He’d love you.” Mayday. His mouth was still going. “Coffee first though, I need some.”

“Do you,” Dom asked, like he was doubting it more and more as this conversation went on.

Well fuck him. Star did need coffee. “I’m going to Beanheadings. Meet me there?”

“The monster cafe? Sure, okay,” Dom said, a little hesitant. “I’ll be right there. I’m at the track right now and someone asked for me right before you called, so give me, uh, twenty?”

“Twenty is acceptable. I will see you anon.”

Star hung up and put his face in his hands, breathing hard, then tossed his phone back into his hated pants pocket and began to run.

He started on two feet, feeling his muscles reach and clench, but it wasn’t enough, and he veered onto the road, transforming as he went, hooves pounding the pavement as he ran between cars. It wasn’t an unusual sight down in the Valley and nobody honked.

It was enough to turn his traitor brain off for a while, though, to become nothing other than speed and movement, a flow of intention from his head through his neck through his back through all four of his legs, and he made it to the heart of the Valley’s downtown, and thus to Beanheadings, almost too quickly.

Star tossed his head, considered not stopping, just carrying on, but he’d made plans, and that was like giving his word, so he transformed back, shook himself head-to-toe, and headed in.

Beanheadings was always a bit quiet during the day; although human friendly, it had attracted a large amount of monstrous clientele, to the point that they’d extended their hours from closing at midnight to being open round the clock. It was a lovely, large place with visible rafters and lacquered tables; over the menu board was a mounted model of a head: a handsome but rough-looking freckled man with wild braids, a cup of coffee to its mouth. That was a copy of the real head of Kearney Dillon, the dullahan bar owner. Star had met the man himself a time or two—he’d shown up when the band had first come here because he was a bit leery of a sidhe on his property, though Dandelion had of course won him over.

Star headed up to the counter, checked out the incubus barista, and almost forgot what he was there for. He got himself a coffee and a carrot muffin, then sat down to wait.

And waited. And waited.

When a half hour had passed, he tried phoning Dom, but the call went to voicemail at once, and he didn’t get a call or text back. He tried again at forty minutes.

Maybe Dom was blowing him off, Star thought discontentedly. Or maybe traffic was bad, or his visitor had held him up. Star could wait more, or… well, what?

[Leave a suggestion for Star in the comments!]

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